


Family Don't End in Blood

by Ango_Isqua



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Ending, Awesome Eileen Leahy, Castiel and Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Charlie Bradbury & Sam Winchester Friendship, Charlie Bradbury in the Men of Letters Bunker, Dean Winchester Has Issues, Dean Winchester is Good With Children, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester Fluff, Fix-It of Sorts, Grand Coven (Supernatural), Multi, POV Multiple, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester Has Nightmares, Sam Winchester Has PTSD, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Werewolf Garth Fitzgerald IV, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25268932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ango_Isqua/pseuds/Ango_Isqua
Summary: After the apocalypses have been averted Sam and Dean try to figure out what to do with all the lore, knowledge, and power they have gained and discovered. They also have to come to terms with the legend they've become in Heaven, Hell, and the hunter community.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Charlie Bradbury/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Garth Fitzgerald IV & Dean Winchester, Garth Fitzgerald IV & Sam Winchester, Garth Fitzgerald IV/Bess Myers, Rowena MacLeod & Sam Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	1. The Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Community](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248784) by [Ango_Isqua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ango_Isqua/pseuds/Ango_Isqua). 



> This is an extension of a one shot I wrote about what the brothers do after the world stops trying to end. The chapters will likely vary in length and there may be time jumps between some of them. If you have any suggestions for the story or for tags let me know!

The familiar growl of the Impala’s engine halted as Dean parked in the Bunker’s garage. They had been driving for hours through the relentlessly flat Kansas landscape. Sam had been unresponsive, sitting and staring out the window at the corn fields rolling by. Dean couldn’t say he minded, he’d put in a tape and allowed the music to fill the silence. The familiar smell of leather, gunpowder, sweat, and blood was whisked away by the wind coming in the open windows, and Sam’s hair blew daintily in the breeze. They rolled up the windows when they were inside the garage, the fresh outdoor air replaced by the rather stale air that marked the less well ventilated areas of the bunker. He and Sam stepped out of the car and stretched gratefully.

Dean had wanted to finish the drive in one night, he wanted to get home and enjoy their newfound freedom. Sam walked to the trunk of the Impala and pulled out their bags, swinging one up onto his shoulder and tossing the other one to Dean. Easily catching the bag, Dean walked with Sam into the Bunker. The building was just as they’d left it, with books and weapons spread across the tables, and the remnants of a spell on the floor. After setting down his bag on a stack of books Dean collapsed into an armchair while Sam began walking to the laundry room. 

“Hey!” Dean shouted from his comfortable position, “do mine too?” Sam scoffed and flipped him an all encompassing hand gesture. Dean sighed but made no move to get up. The laundry could wait, he was tired, and maybe if he left it long enough Sam would do it anyway. Smiling to himself he drifted off. He didn’t wake up when Sam came in, dressed in running clothes, or when Sam came back; sweaty with a glint in his eye. 

“Dean, wake up. Get your lazy ass out of the chair, I want to run something by you.” Dean groaned as he allowed himself to be roused by his brother’s words. Once he was sure Dean was listening Sam began to outline his idea. Dean listened, groggily at first, but then with increasing interest, as he began to see where the other man was going. When he was done outlining his plan Sam sat back and looked at Dean, clearly waiting for a response. Dean sat for a moment, unsure, but the steel in his brother’s eyes told him Sam was serious about this. 

“You do remember what happened with the British Men of Letters, right? Hunters don’t like to be bossed around, even if we have information and resources to offer.” 

“I remember,” Sam replied, “but we’re not them. We don't think of hunters the way most angels think of humans, mud monkeys remember?” Dean snorted, Uriel’s words had always grated on him. “Not everyone will want our help, but some people will. We have all this information, all this lore, think of the people we could save.” Sam held Dean’s eyes as he spoke, his gaze exuding the mixture of intensity and sensitivity that Dean had seen him use to get his way on so many occasions in the past. 

“Don’t you make your goo goo eyes at me Sammy. I get what you're saying, I’m just not confident it’ll work as well as you’d like.”

“I have to try.” Countered Sam, and Dean gave up. His brother was a stubborn son of a bitch when he got something in his head. Plus, Dean had always been surprised at how much of a leader Sam had become. Both in the raid against the British Men of Letters, and with the people from the apocalypse world, Sam had stepped up, and people had listened. Maybe this would be the same. If anyone could bring the american hunters together it would be Sam. So Dean nodded once again before pointedly closing his eyes.

Dean turned away and settled deeper into the chair. Although his eyes were closed he could almost see Sammy’s hunched shoulders as he walked away. They both deserved a break. They’d spent these last couple of months on a semi vacation, but it hadn’t been enough to catch up on all the sleep they had missed in the last, years,  _ years _ of almost constant movement. Despite the fact that Dean wanted to rest, needed to rest really, he kept an eye on Sam instead. He watched from under his lashes as Sam walked to the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea. If Dean were awake he would have made fun of him for it, but, as Dean reminded himself, he was sleeping. Mug in hand, Sam collected all the names, numbers, addresses, and information of all the hunters or hunter affiliates they had run into over the years. Dean could see the frown on his brother's face as Sam contemplated the too short list. Many hunters had been killed either by the British Men of Letters, Michael, or the job in general. There were more out there, Dean knew, hunters he had never met, fighting the good fight, but for now they had to begin with the ones they had. Once Sam had settled down at one of the sturdy tables in the library Dean allowed himself to actually fall asleep. He sunk into the chair, his head falling onto his shoulder, and the world fading into blissful darkness. 

Dean awoke to clattering and banging from the kitchen. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and checked his watch. It had been hours since he had fallen asleep. Back cracking and groaning, he stood, there was no doubt he was getting too old for this. One of those memory foam mattresses, that’s what he needed. Enticing smells wafted from the kitchen. Sam was making cookies again, his brother was a decent enough cook, but his baking was to die for (another source of mockery for Dean). They reminded him of Jess, supposedly, Dean hadn’t known her long enough to associate anything with the girl other than his brother's pain. All that was in the past though, and as he walked into the kitchen he heard Sam talking on the phone. 

“Yeah, and thank you again.” A pause, “You know I do, see you soon.” Sam had been smiling, but as soon as he put down the phone it slipped off his face. Dean pretended he didn’t see the shift in demeanor. He and Sam had both been a bit off lately, they weren’t used to slow times, but perhaps this project would serve to get them moving again. 

  
  
  



	2. The Meeting

Sam set down the phone, letting his smile fade away. That was the last of the calls he could make, the last of the hunters he knew. He’d laid out his idea, suggested a meeting, and the rest was up to the others. The word would have to spread through them as they contacted all the hunters they knew, and so on, in a ripple effect. Or so he hoped. Most of the people he was able to contact directly were ones he was close to. Jody and Donna were at the top of the list, and Garth not far behind. Each of his friends had heard him out, and raised many of the same concerns Dean had, but they agreed to his plan. Sam pulled the cookies out of the oven. They reminded him of Jess, but also of better times, times  _ before.  _ He didn’t eat them though, they never tasted as good as the ones she had made. Dean made up for it though, by scarfing down three, right off the tray. 

In the days that followed Sam and Dean both were surprised at the almost universal acceptance of the open invitation. Apparently the hunters were more than willing to hear them out. Sam had gained an inkling of the legend they had become in the minds of hunters, but it appeared that just about everyone had heard of the Winchesters, at least in passing, and most knew the stories of their feats. So the word spread, and people heeded it. Hunters all across the country picked up old phones, answering calls from people they hadn’t seen in years, and began to head to Kansas. While they drove, Sam sat in his room, staring at the bare walls, and tried to plot out the foundations of the organization that would scatter the darkness in him and in the world. He had barely laid the first stone when people began arriving. 

When the planned date of the meeting arrived there was a crowd, more than a hundred strong, loitering in an abandoned factory. Sam surveyed the crowd, watching as tensions rose and fell, the crowd moving like shifting sand. No one complained about the less than five star location, they all knew the importance of a neutral meeting place, and it was rather a nicer abandoned factory than most of them were used to. Sam watched the back slapping, reminiscing, and catching up. If it weren't for the steady breeze coming in the broken windows the room would be stifling with all the bodies, but as it were things were comfortable enough. This counted as a blessing in Sam’s book. They didn’t need heat and confined space to raise the already heightened tension. The building maintained a steady rumble of conversation, only rarely broken by a shout or exclamation. 

Sam and Dean stood near a staircase talking to the few remaining survivors from the apocalypse world. That group had scattered after Michael’s massacre, but had returned when Sam called. While they were talking someone tapped Sam on the shoulder. He turned to see the Campbells standing behind him. There was an awkward moment, but Sam clasped each of them in a hug. The time he spent with them might have been less than ideal, but they were family, and good hunters when not being used by Crowley. Regardless of that he could not help but grimase slightly as they engaged him in conversation. After introductions were made, and a good bit of small talk, the brothers walked up the steps to a balcony where they could be seen by the whole crowd. 

“Hello everyone,” Sam began, before waiting patiently for the room to quiet. Once it had he continued. “I’ve come to understand that many of you have heard of my brother and I.” There were some chuckles at this and someone that sounded suspiciously like Bobby snorted. “We called this meeting because we believe it is important to share the knowledge and resources we have discovered and collected. The hunter community has been shrinking recently, and we mourn those losses, but we also need to work to prevent any more. It seems prudent to band together somewhat, so we can help and support each other. There are many ways we could do this, and we’re open to suggestions about if and how it should be handled. We do believe, strongly, that this is necessary to maintain the relative safety and stability that we have maintained over the years. We called this meeting to hear your thoughts and begin to build a network, at the very least, for everyone's benefit.” There was a pause after this speech, but voices quickly began calling out and the noise was raised to a tumult. 

Sam stepped back as Dean rolled his eyes and took his place. His brother raised his hands and called out for silence. After a moment his request was granted and Dean sighed. “We need to do this in an orderly fashion or no one will be heard.” The crowd, recognizing the truth of this statement, calmed a bit more and a voice called:

“Shall we raise our hands? It’ll be like school all over again.” This was met with a smattering of laughter, but was accepted as the way to go. Sam watched the situation switch from raucous to polite in an instant. 

“Ok,” Dean said, “who had something to say?” Hands went up all over the room and he sighed. “This is your grand plan Sammy,” he whispered to Sam, “You handle this.” Sam rolled his eyes, and shot Dean a bitchface for the ages, but stepped forward. Bracing himself for what was to come, he called on the first hand. 

The meeting went on for hours. Eventually most of the crowd sat down and the brothers came back down the stairs to stand in front of the, now seated, group. Questions, concerns, and some small jabs were brought up and discussed. Had the Men of Letters, or the angels, been there to see it they would have scoffed, but progress was made. By the time the sun was going down they had heard the concerns of most of the group. It was agreed that everyone would meet back together the next day and the crowd scattered to their lodgings and vehicles. Jody, Donna, the girls, and Garth all walked back to the bunker with Sam and Dean. (The factory had been chosen in large part due to its proximity to their base of operations.) 

The evening was spent catching up with what everyone had been doing while the boys had been on their trip. Sam sat in the circle of their friends as stories were exchanged. It felt right, it felt peaceful, and hopeful, and Sam wanted it to last forever. All of them sitting together prepared to build a future worth living for. Eventually though they all dispersed, there was work to be done tomorrow.

The next day the factory was once again filled with hunters. It did not appear that any had left, which Sam took as a good sign, but it was hard to tell with so many people. Sam watched as people split off into smaller groups. Most of these groups were families, or friendly acquaintances, who discussed together what would be best for them. The large room was soon filled with groups of varying sizes, and a steady drone of conversation arose. 

While the groups talked, Sam and Dean traveled among them listening to people’s concerns. From what Sam heard most people were fine with the Men of Letters’ information being distributed, but some weren’t as comfortable with a more closely knit group. Many were loners who didn’t want to be locked down by a chain of command. Others were cautious of the other hunters, and didn’t necessarily trust that they would not abuse the knowledge and magics which could become available. Of those, many were distrustful of Sam and Dean as well, which struck Sam deeper than he would have liked to admit. The brothers listened to all these conversations and more as they traversed the room. 

Eventually Dean left Sam to continue listening in, and Sam watched as the other man wandered over to the group of children who had gathered in the corner of the room. They were from all over the country, from all different backgrounds, but appeared to be getting along fine. Sam saw Dean watching as they began telling stories of hunts, the older ones clearly embellishing the tales for the younger ones, and it took him back to him and Dean, sitting in a motel room, his eyes huge as he was regaled with Dean’s ‘adventures’. After listening for a while Dean stepped away and scanned the room. There were clusters of teenagers as well, older kids, hovering on the fringes of the adult conversations. Sam continued observing as Dean approached a group of three boys who were leaning against a wall next to one of the small groups. 

“What do you think?” Dean asked them, and they seemed vaguely surprised at being addressed. One of the boys spoke up,

“I don’t really understand what the argument is about. Seems to me you should just give all the information to everyone, and let us go back to our business.” He was immediately rebuked by the boy standing beside him, and the group quickly began an only slightly less than civil discourse. Sam smiled and began rounding up the teenagers. He brought them over to the conversation, one at a time, and in groups. Before long there was another circle who had things to say about the goings on. 

Dean helped Sam round up the teenagers, and then they returned to observing the groups. Quite quickly two main parties began forming. There were those who thought the information in the bunker, and elsewhere, that Sam and Dean had discovered should be shared with everyone, and that everyone should then be left to their own devices. The other side believed that the information should be shared, but a system should also be built. An institution of resources, allies, and possibly even safehouses of some sort should be built to maintain the hunting community. 

Neither Sam nor Dean became involved in any of the discussions, but after a couple hours of talk, and a lunch break, representatives were sent from each of the groups to begin a more serious conversation. That group of about twenty people gathered around a table someone had scrounged up. There each side laid out their points, and, while tensions ran high at times, it reminded Sam of debate in college. Each side outlining their argument and backing it up with evidence, only to be countered, and back and forth it went. The whole thing was almost surprisingly civilized, and Sam couldn’t help but be hopeful that this could mark a new beginning. He and Dean exchanged looks periodically, when a new point came up, or dangerous territory was looming, but once again stayed mostly out of the debate.

Dean would periodically look over at the rest of the hunters, not involved in the current discussion. Many of them had begun cracking open beers. Others were trading stories and tips, while still more were working on what looked like a makeshift bar. It appeared that, no matter how this panned out, it would end in a party. Sam had also seen the direction things were headed, so he cut into the conversation. 

“I think it’s fair to say both sides have made their points well,” here he paused as sounds of acquiescence rose from the group. “But we need to come to a decision. It should, I believe, be unanimous. If we do choose to form a more defined organization I would suggest we collect contact information, and some of us stay to begin arranging a system of support. If we choose to simply return to the status quo after we spread the new information I would need only a few days, and possibly some help, to get the basics out to everyone. How would you suggest we make the final decision?” This last question was posed to the group, and there was a moment of silence.

“What do you think?” The speaker was an older woman who introduced herself as Alma, and had come in from the west coast. “You called us here, what do you think?” Dean stayed silent, clearly leaving the question to Sam. 

“I think we should come together. The information should be spread of course, but think of how much more we could learn if we were all sharing information all the time. Think of how much safer we would be if there were someone to watch your back, and check in on you. I don’t necessarily believe we should have a full on hierarchy, but I do think we should keep in contact, establish a home base, and perhaps a leader, or office, to distribute cases and update information. This doesn't need to be fully realised right now, but I think this is the time to begin. My brother and I, and many of you, have been through a lot over the years. This is a chance to ease that load, not only for us, but for those who come after.” The table was still as the group pondered Sam’s words. After a couple of beats, Alma spoke:

“We’ll put it to a vote now, all in favor of going our separate ways?” Not a soul raised their hand, and she smiled. “That appears to have settled it.” But Jody spoke up from her seat,

“Not quite, I nominate Sam as leader.” There is a susurration of voices, but the sheriff continued: “He brought us together here today, he clearly has a vision and the know how to pull it off, plus we need someone to organize this. Are there any objections?” She looked around the table, but everyone seemed content with the suggestion. Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, his eyes questioning, but Dean gave him a confirming look. Sam could tell that Dean had no desire to deal with bitchy hunters day in and day out, so he accepted the position. So it was settled, Sam was leader for the time being, and he would begin the construction of a community. 

The group dispersed into the crowd to spread the news. The two brothers who had begun this movement hung back. “You couldn’t let us rest. Not even a full year without world altering events before you start shaking things up again.” Dean sighed, and continued, “I don’t envy you your new position Sammy, but you could be great. This could be great.” Sam looked at his brother in surprise. Dean’s not usually one for impassioned words, but his brother was already turning and wading into the crowd toward the now completed bar. Sam watched as he was absorbed by the crowd. He wanted to believe he could lead this group, but he couldn’t help but feel they’d put their faith in him falsely. He forced the thought out of his mind, this operation was his idea, and he needed faith in himself to make it work. 

  
  
  



	3. The Party

The party that had been forming during the meeting picked up quickly after it was over. Everyone seemed to take the decision rather well, which Tara was glad of. The last thing she needed was a room full of angry, drunk, hunters. The night went on peacefully for the most part. People began pulling instruments out of who knows where, and before long there was fairly decent music coming from the small band which had formed. 

It had been ages since the hunters had come together like this. It may even have been the first time. There had been places like the Roadhouse, and other hunter hotspots, but nothing like this. Tara, for her part, found herself relaxing, truly relaxing and letting loose for the first time in a long time. She watched as Dean took his turn at the microphone, and was pleasantly surprised when he began to sing. Tara watched the man who had called them all hear talk to the woman next to him. The woman spoke first, and Tara clearly saw the ease between them.

“I didn’t know Dean could sing! He’s been holding out on us all this time.” Tara saw Sam smirk,

“Don’t tell him that, his head’s big enough already without you praising his singing voice.” She heard the woman chuckle as she walked away from Sam, apparently to check on the group of girls standing together in a corner of the room. The party continued through the night. People started dancing at some point and Tara found herself dragged onto the dance floor. As she danced, slightly uncomfortably, she looked over and saw Dean dancing with a little girl who couldn’t have been more than five. She was wearing a tiny flannel shirt and jeans, matching quite well with Dean, who was spinning her around in rather sickening circles. 

Tara stopped with a start when she realised that was  _ her _ little girl. They had come from the south, around Florida, and honestly she was rather unsure about this new situation. Her husband had been killed by a vengeful spirit, leaving her with a baby, and no source of income. So she’d started hunting in order to regain purpose, but she’d been wary of other hunters. They were mostly men, mostly drunk, and mostly violent, so she was vigilant. When she saw her little girl lifted in the air by a man she knew only by reputation she began pushing her way through the crowd. She stopped though, before she reached the pair, because her daughter was laughing, smiling, and laughing, and that was a too rare sight. So she stood watching with a rather sad smile as they danced, and she thought to herself that maybe these two men really could build something worth having.

After a moment Tara shifted her gaze from her daughter to another hunter, who was dancing like a madman to the joy of about four or five kids, and more than a few adults. She couldn’t help but admire the other man’s unabashed excitement at life, but also noticed the dirty looks being shot his way. Only a brief moment of confusion passed before she recognised him as Garth, the hunter turned werewolf. It followed that a werewolf, surrounded by hunters, would be a charged situation. No one acted out though, the festive air seemed to have quelled most of the unrest that would have arisen had everyone been having slightly less of a good time.

The party lasted till the wee hours of the morning, as no one seemed to want to leave. It had been a long time since the people there had been able to be so free, so unconcerned with the life they led. Tara found herself sitting next to Alma, the woman who had spoken up at the table. They talked for a while about her life, and the other woman’s, and the world they were living in. People joined the idle talk until it was a rather large group. Before they could get too involved in conversation however, someone mentioned that the sun was about to rise, and that there would be work to be done tomorrow. 

At those words the party began to disperse. People headed back to motels to catch an hour or two of sleep before they had to wake up again. Tara was pleased to see that some of the less drunk hunters were helping the more inebriated ones get back to town. She overheard a conversation between the two brothers,

“See Sammy, it’s working already!” Tara watched as Sam looked at Dean incredulously,

“You say that like it was all your idea!” Dean just shrugged and went to go herd the last stragglers out of the building. Although she had just met these men, she felt as if she could trust them. For whatever reason they gave her confidence that the hunters could become something more, something better. Despite that, they exuded an air of danger, as if the life they had led had made them either a little less, or a little more, than human. Keeping that feeling in mind, she watched them as she herded her one little straggler back to the car. It was a quick drive back to the motel, but tomorrow would be a much longer drive, and they would both need sleep.

  
  



	4. The Lore

Sam was staring up at the ceiling when the alarm went off. The bunker had been silent except for the hum of the ventilation in the walls and the constant ticking of the clock beside his bed. That stillness was broken by the intrusive beeping from his phone. Sam rolled out of bed, took a quick shower, and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. His footsteps silent in the, once again peaceful, halls of the bunker. 

It had been agreed during the Meeting that most of the hunters would return to their day to day business. Those who focused more on lore, the Bobby’s spread all over the country, would stay to organize and distribute the information. Sam had made an effort to find all the people who would be helping and introduce himself. Although some were even more crotchety than Bobby had been, they had all pledged their support, and Sam couldn’t help but think he didn’t really deserve the respect they gave him.

It was a couple hours before the group arrived to begin working. The girls, and the others who had been staying at the bunker, had left earlier that morning with well wishes on both sides. Dean left soon after. Sam didn’t ask where he went. Dean had never been one for the lore and books, and in all honesty Sam was glad to have one less distraction. So he sat in the quiet bunker preparing for the new arrivals until he heard the firs nock on the door. 

Over the years the Winchsters had lived in the Bunker Sam had organized, cataloged, and digitized many of the files and items. Now that he had help the work moved much more quickly. Almost all of the books had been scanned into the computers, and the last of the magical items had been archived, when Dean reentered the Bunker with a familiar face in tow. 

“Charlie!” Sam exclaimed, as she came down the stairs. “It's been a while, how are you?” They may not have been as close to this Charlie as their Chairle, but they’d kept in touch, and it was always nice to see her. She wrapped him in a hug before he pulled her over to his computer. “You know what we're trying to do right?” She nodded, and he continued, “I was thinking it would be nice to have a way to search in a type of monster or spell or something and find all the information on that.” He continued to explain his thoughts to Charlie who was growing more excited by the moment. Soon some of the more tech savvy hunters had come over to give their thoughts, and it became a full on brainstorming session. Sam got out the whiteboard and together they came up with a plan for an interface that would hold all of the information. 

While Charlie and a volunteer who went by Zara began working on the interface, Sam began working on the spells. He walked through the bunker to the room that had been set aside for spellwork. The walls were covered in shelves filled with spell components and spell books. In the center of the room was a large crafting table under which were cabinets holding mortar and pestles and other tools. He had catalogued everything in the room except for the items that had been in Rowena’s apartament. They had gone back and cleared it out when the landlord had called and complained that the rent was late, but Sam had not yet been able to bring himself to go through her things. So he sat at the table and reached for the first of her grimoires. He made it to the third page before he had to set the book down. The feeling of her magic on the pages reminded him of the power her blood had held as it poured out onto his hands, and he was taken back to the graveyard and the look of insistence on her face as she held the blade out to him. Sam sat for a moment, gathering himself, before he continued. He worked his way through the pages, transcribing the spells into the computer, periodically flashing back to Rowena helping them, or fighting them. With every memory the tears, which had begun to fall, came faster. While he knew she wasn’t fully gone, she was in Hell, and as Meg had pointed out all those years ago “Hell is Hell, even for demons,” or witch queens Sam supposed. Rowena had been his friend, one of few, and he couldn't help but feel he’d failed her. 

Interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, Sam dried his eyes, and refocused on the task at hand. A moment later Charlie walked in. 

“Hey, Sam, you alright?” She asked with concern.

“Yeah Charlie, I’ll be fine, how’s the computer program going?” Charlie gave him one more concerned look before announcing that the basic interface was built. All that needed to be done now was put in the rest of the information, and streamline the user experience. “That can wait though,” she announced. “It’s time for dinner and Zara made food!” Sam checked his watch in surprise, more time had passed than he would have thought. He stood and left the room with Charlie.

“Seems like you and Zara hit it off..” he trailed off and looked down at his friend. Charlie grinned, but didn't reply. They walked into the kitchen where Zara had indeed cooked a meal, and one of the other hunters had added a table and some chairs so they could all sit together. The group spent a companionable hour talking and joking. Sam wouldn't admit it to himself at the time, but what they were building? This community? It was filling a void he hadn’t quite realized he had. 

They took a break from working after dinner, and spent the rest of the evening talking around the table in the war room. There were about ten or so volunteers from all around the country, and most of them had never met. As they spent more time getting to know each other some differences raised themselves. Charlie and a man named Albert from the northwest almost came to blows over some opposing political ideals, and it almost escalated into a full on brawl when people’s mothers were brought into it, but Dean, who had disappeared once again after dropping off Charlie, reentered the bunker with an obscenely high stack of pies. The conflict was put aside for the moment as pie was passed around the table, and more beer was pulled from the fridge. 

The work continued the next day. It only took about a week to have all of the artifacts, lore, and spells in the bunker built into the now perfected interface. The volunteers said their goodbyes and returned back to their houses, or home bases, where they added the information and books they had there. As far as Sam could tell, the new system worked well, although some of the older hunters had trouble adapting. It was continuously being added to as well, as hunters found new books, artifacts, spells, and information the resource grew. It took some time to be brought completely up to date, everyone was busy, but once it was caught up people were careful to maintain it. This thing, that had only a month or two ago been nonexistent, quickly became indispensable. It spread as well. Every once in a while someone would run into a hunter out in the boondocks somewhere, and just about all of them agreed to join the community and add to ‘The Interface’ as it was creatively dubbed. Sam was pleased by the success of the Interface, and the resource it offered. He took no time to rest on his laurels though, he had to keep moving, keep helping, or the shadows that burned like Hell and were filled with accusing eyes began creeping closer. 


	5. The Wendigo

Dean walked out to the garage, calling out to Sam as he left, and his brother offered him a vague hand wave. They needed to get out of this bunker, or Dean did at least. Sam seemed content to sit for hours on end going through a new set of files he had found. If Dean was being honest with himself Sam’s actions were likely symptoms of a larger problem, but if Sam didn’t bring it up neither would he. It would take a whole dose of honest juice to get Dean to consider that his antsiness was a symptom of some problems of his own, but as it was he just needed a hunt. 

He started up the Impala and looked down at the notification on his phone. When Zara had suggested a group chat for all the hunters Dean had laughed outright, but it had worked out well. If a hunter had a question or needed help they could ask and get an almost instantaneous response. They couldn’t fit all the hunters in one chat so they divided it up by area. Each area had one (Dean thought of them as ‘Bobbys’) that was part of another group filled with the other Bobbys. That way information could still be spread from area to area. 

Dean had responded to a text from Alma, who he vaguely remembered from the Meeting. Apparently she was further East than she usually worked and needed some help with a wendigo in White River National Forest. That was way out of the normal territory for a wendigo, but at this point nothing phased Dean, or any hunter really, anymore. It was about a seven hour drive away from the Bunker, but Dean didn’t mind the driving, and there hadn’t been any cases closer to home recently. So Dean rolled out of the garage, Metallica roaring out of the speakers, and headed to Colorado. 

He arrived at the diner Alma had arranged to meet in at around five o’clock and watched the world go by outside the window for a few minutes before she walked in. He stood when she entered, waving to get her attention. They ordered food from the harried looking waitress, sat, and discussed the job. It seemed like a fairly open and shut wendigo case, five campers and hikers had gone missing in the last month, but Alma wanted someone to watch her back just in case. 

“Who do you usually hunt with?” Dean asked, after taking a sip of his drink.

“I usually have my husband with me, but he is back home finalizing adoption papers.” Dean looked at her in surprise. 

“You two are adopting, congratulations!” Alma sighed at his words. 

“Yes. We are excited to have her, but she is the daughter of one of our friends who recently passed away.” Dean expressed his condolences, and she nodded. “It is sad, but now we get to have a child in our lives again.” 

“You had a child before?”

“That’s how we got into hunting. It's our backstory I suppose. Our son was killed by a shtriga.” Dean repeated his condolences and Alma accepted sadly. “So we are glad to have another child, but..., nevermind we need to focus. We need to catch this thing so I can get home.” Dean agreed, and they finished their food quickly. Practically inhaling the last few bites of his burger Dean slid out of the booth. Alma finished off her salad almost as fast, and tossed down some cash to pay for the meal.They stepped out onto the sidewalk and made their way across the street to their cars. It turned out Alma had already found where most of the people had gone missing, so they went their separate ways for the night and agreed to meet the next day, with their supplies, at the entrance to the park. 

Dean sat in his motel room watching Dr. Sexy, M.D. He found himself missing Sam’s snarky comments and eternal bitchface, he’d gotten used to having them on hunts. Plus it meant he'd have to get his own coffee in the morning. Dean rolled his eyes at himself, and flipped off the TV. Flopping down on the bed he flipped onto his stomach, careful to keep his grip on the knife under the pillow. He was woken up at an absurdly early hour by his phone ringing. 

“I am going to kill him. What time is it? This is absurd!” Dean grumbled to himself as he answered the phone. “What do you want at such an ungodly hour?” Before the person on the other end of the line could answer he corrected himself, “so freakin early. My sincere apologies for invoking the name of our most despised creator.” He was only partially joking, they had taken to avoiding mentioning Chuck, or giving him any importance in their vernacular. 

“You are forgiven I suppose, but should watch the attitude hmm?” Dean was surprised by Alma’s voice. “I know it’s early, but I wanted to get started, and by the time we get there the sun will be up.” Her argument was valid, so he replied with only a little gracelessness,

“Yeah, give me ten minutes.” Alma hung up and Dean rolled blearily out of bed. It took him almost exactly ten minutes to get out the door, and most of that was getting coffee from the dicey coffee machine provided by the motel. When he met up with Alma at the entrance to the park he offered her a cup, which she refused. Suddenly noticing her headscarf he did a small double take, and snorted slightly. “Camo, really?” She reached up to her hijab, slightly self consciously. 

“My husband bought it for me as a joke, but I got attached. Plus, you never know when you’ll need to be stealthy.” Dean shrugged, evaluating her outfit, 

“Just the headscarf in camo though, that’s a look.” She raised her eyebrows at his dig,

“Yeah, because you are the pinnacle of fashion.” Dean stuttered as she walked towards the woods,

“There’s nothing wrong with flannel and jeans.” He muttered to himself as he followed behind her. He could have sworn he heard her chuckle, but elected to ignore it. They hiked up to the spot where the largest percentage of the disappearances had occurred. On the way they exchanged stories, and Alma told him about her life. It was an interesting tale, but was cut short when they came across a campsite, ripped to shreds. It brought Dean back to the case he’d worked with Sam all those years ago. That was a different time in so many ways. He was older now, the world was bigger, and he had seen a lot more shit. 

He and Alma searched the campsite, but didn’t find any clue as to where the campers had been taken. The woods had not quieted, they were still surrounded by birdsong and skittering up in the trees, so it seemed the wendigo had moved on. They continued walking, with much more caution, until they came upon another site that had been demolished. Here there were drag marks leading through the underbrush off into the woods. Alma led, carefully following the path of disrupted plants and leaves, with Dean a step or two behind. Eventually they reached a cave entrance covered in thick vines. 

“Getting some serious flashbacks here.” Dean commented. Alma gave him a questioning look. “Sammy and I tackled a case like this years ago, when we first started hunting together.” Alma nodded, but didn’t reply, instead gesturing for Dean to follow her in. They walked into the cave, brushing past the vines as they entered, and made their way to the back of the opening. It didn’t go as far into the mountain as they would have expected. Rather, it turned slightly before opening into a small cavern. There were bodies heaped along the rocky walls of the space, but it didn’t appear that any were still alive. 

“Where is the beast?” Alma asked, “It’s daytime, it should be here.” Dean was about to agree when they heard a screaming roar, and the wendigo lept out from behind them. It had apparently hidden, camouflaged, in the vines before silently sneaking up behind them. Dean processed all this quickly while he was spinning to face the monster. Alma was turning as well, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid the vicious swipe aimed at her head. Dean didn’t see what the damage was because he was suddenly face to face with an angry wendigo. He tried to keep his eyes on it while reaching into his bag for his flamethrower, but was forced to look away for a moment when something got caught on his backpack. The next thing he knew he was laying on the floor of the cave and the flamethrower was tossed across the room. The wendigo loomed over him, the rancid stink of the monster wafting down, when it suddenly shrieked in pain. Dean could feel the heat from the fire as the wendigo burned above him. Alma grabbed his hand and hauled him out of the cave, the noise of the burning monster fading behind them. 

“This is a pretty nifty thing.” She said, gesturing with the flamethrower.

“Right? I made it myself.” Dean said proudly. “Are you okay? I saw it take a swipe at you?” He stopped to check her head for injuries, but finding nothing but a small scratch, he handed her his flannel. 

“What’s this for?” Alma asked as she took the cloth.

“Your headscarf is gone. I figured you’d want to replace it.” Alma reached up to her hair in surprise before quickly wrapping the shirt around her head. “From camo to plaid, it looks good.” Dean quipped, Alma looked vaguely embarrassed but smiled.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, now whaddya say we get outa here?” She gestured for him to lead the way, and they hiked back to their cars. “Well it was a job well done, and it’s not even dinner time yet! I could still go for a burger though.” 

“Sure, let's go eat. I’m getting pancakes this time.”

“Breakfast for dinner? A woman after my own heart.” They laughed and hopped into their cars. By the time they reached the diner again it really was dinner time, and they were both hungry. After they had ordered their food, and the waitress had walked away, Dean couldn’t help but ask, “Last time we were talking there was a ‘but’ attached to your excitement about your new daughter. What was that about?” Alma sighed, and took a moment before responding,

“This life, it's not good for children. We don’t have a house or anything. We just keep moving you know?” Dean did know, he knew what that was like, to grow up without stability, without a home. “We thought about getting a house, but there’s not much money in hunting.” Dean snorted, that was the truth.

“I’m sure you two will be great parents, even without a house. You’ll figure something out.” He paused before offering, “Let us know if you need anything. Sam and I always enjoy some company.” His offer hung as an open invitation. Alma smiled, rather sadly Dean thought, and thanked him politely before changing the conversation. Dean made no effort to force the issue, and they spent the rest of dinner talking of other things. The next day, after friendly goodbyes, Alma headed back to her husband and daughter, and Dean returned to the Bunker. Sam accosted him almost as soon as he walked in the door.

“Dean, I had another idea.” Dean stayed silent, waiting, “You know the other Men of Letters chapter houses? Like the one in Rhode Island?” Sam didn’t wait for a reply before continuing, “I assume some of them are gone, like the one in St. Louis, but others are likely still there. I found a list, and there are five we’ve never been to. Think of the possibilities, if there were outposts for hunters all over the US.” Dean was thinking, thinking about what this could mean for people like Alma, and he grinned.

“We ought to check them out. Make sure they're safe. We don’t want a repeat of Portsmouth.” He clapped Sam on the back and went to start packing. 


	6. The Bunkers

The Impala rolled to a stop in front of a gas station somewhere in Illinois. Sam stepped out of the passenger seat, stretching to his full height. He inhaled the smell of gasoline and rain, and then walked into the building. While Dean filled up the tank Sam grabbed two cups of coffee and an apple, sharing a brief smile with the woman behind the counter. By the time he stepped back outside Dean was leaning against the side of the car holding a trashy tabloid. Sam rolled his eyes, handed him one of the coffees, and slid into the driver's seat. They were about halfway to the Chapter house in Canton Michigan, and Sam was up to drive. They already knew that the Chapter houses in St. Louis and Normal were gone, but hopefully the others would still be intact. 

Dean went to sleep almost as soon as they pulled out of the gas station. He had been sleeping more lately. Sam figured it was making up for all the rest they’d lost out on over the years. Sam, on the other hand, had not been sleeping more. He had never gotten regular full nights of sleep. Not when he was young, traveling all around the country with his father and brother, not in college when he was trying so hard to build a new life, and certainly not afterwards with the fiasco that became his life. So no, Sam did not sleep in, there were things to do, reparations to make, and in all honesty, nightmares to avoid. He let out a soft breath and shot another look at Dean, his brother had always been one for the R&R. 

When they pulled up in front of the Canton chapter house Sam was surprised at the facade that matched the address. It wasn’t a house or a bunker, instead it appeared to be an apartment building of some sort. It almost reminded Sam of the chapter house in Normal that had been turned into a comic store, except for this one appeared abandoned. It was probably about six stories, sitting right on the outskirts of town, and while abandoned, it was not decrepit. He parked the Impala along the street and shook Dean awake. Once Dean had roused himself the brothers cautiously approached the front door of the building. As expected it was locked, and Sam could sense spellwork protecting it. When he mentioned as much to Dean the other man gave him a funny look.   
“You’re getting better with that magic stuff. Pretty soon you’ll be a full blown witch.” Sam stared at Dean incredulously, 

“Dean, we already do more high level magic than most full time witches. Not to mention the experimental stuff we’ve pulled off.” Dean returned the look,

“Sure, but this still, is this gonna be, like, a thing, for you? This magic stuff?” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“You and your hatred of witches, we’ve met quite a few good witches in our time, you need to get over it.” Sam could hear Dean’s scoff, but ignored it, and grabbed the key out of his pocket. He opened the door and stepped inside, Dean close behind. On the other side of the entryway was a long hallway lined in a thick carpet. Every one of the boys’ steps puffed up clouds of dust into the air, and the walls were similarly coated. There were doors on both sides of the hallway which ended in a large spiral staircase, rather like the one in the bunker. “Search the house?” Sam suggested.

“Sure, you go left I go right?” Sam nodded, and approached the first door on the left. Pusing it open with his foot, gun in hand, he peered around the corner. Through the doorway was a sitting room of some sort, covered in dust, but otherwise intact. The other rooms were the same. It reminded Sam of how they’d found the bunker, frozen in time, a slice of life from the 1950’s. He and Dean met back up at the end of the hall. “Nothing but books and dust on my side.” 

“Same for me.” Sam agreed. “Shall we go upstairs?” Dean started up the spiral staircase, keeping his gun in front of him, and Sam came up a step or two behind. The first floor had held public rooms, a library, a dining room, a kitchen, a gym. The second floor held labs for both magic and science, as well as offices. The third floor had computers and machines with a variety of purposes that were not clearly evident from their perfunctory glance. The fourth and fifth floors had living quarters, larger than those in the bunker, more like suites really. Dean let out a low whistle and Sam had to admit he agreed with the sentiment. The rooms were luxurious. 

“These must have been some sort of extra hoity toity Men of Letters,” commented Dean. Sam snorted, and took the stairs to the next floor. The sixth floor was all one room, filled with files and boxes. 

“Dean, look at all this. Some of it is likely the same as from the bunker, but I’d bet there’s new lore here. Not to mention more artifacts and magical items.” Sam spoke calmly, but was more excited than he let on, each piece of this information could save a life. Dean still seemed more concerned with the quality of the rooms, but Sam could tell that his brother was legitimately pleased with what they had found here. “It’s late now, why don’t we do a more thorough search then sleep here? We can keep an eye out for any eldritch beasts.”

“Sounds like a plan, I call the biggest room,” and then Dean was off down the stairs. Sam spent some time looking through the shelves. He had been correct in his original assumptions; most of the information was repeated from the bunker, but there some labels he did not recognize. A brief look into those boxes revealed files and some strange bottles full of a deep black ooze, but nothing clearly dangerous. After a few more moments browsing the shelves Sam descended the staircase, pausing briefly at the fifth floor where he could see an open door where Dean was settling in, before continuing to the fourth floor. He chose the room closest to the stairs and brought in his bag. There was no point unpacking for one night’s stay, but Sam went through his drawers and closet anyway. To his immense relief nowhere in the lavishly decorated room were there any dead man's clothes, although there were no less than three false bottomed drawers spread around the room. 

Sam spent the rest of the day thoroughly searching the building, it was definitely empty, and didn’t appear to be housing anything malicious. After Dean ran out for food, (there was certainly nothing worth eating left in the kitchen pantry), and they had eaten dinner, they retired to their rooms. Sam lay on his bed, watching the shadows shift on the ceiling, trying to force himself to sleep. It was a futile effort, and after only a few minutes he was slipping out the door of his room. The metal steps of the spiral staircase were cold against his bare feet, as he made his way all the way to the ground floor, and continued in the dark to the gym. Not bothering to turn on the lights Sam approached the punching bag hanging from the ceiling. He took a moment to wrap his hands before striking the bag, again and again, calm and methodical. The movement, simple, physical, continued even as his mind relaxed, rested. It was better than sleep, sleep brought nightmares, but with every punch of his fist against the bag the darkness in his mind faded into the darkness of the room. The same with all the exercises, they solidified him, gave him strength and control. He continued for hours, letting his mind sleep. His body could rest while he sat in the car, or did research. It might not have been the most classic method of coping, but it worked for him. Just as the morning sun began peeking through the windows, Sam returned to his room, not noticing his brother looking down the stairway from the floor above. 

After taking a shower and changing clothes Sam entered the dining room where Dean sat, drinking coffee. Sam grabbed his own cup and settled across the table from Dean.

“If the others go as quickly as this one we can be back at the bunker within the week.” 

“I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry to get back.” Dean pointed out. “There’s nothing to do there.”

“I thought you liked it, you were so excited when we found it.”

“I was, I am, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend all my time there.”

“Fair. I guess it’s jumping the gun a bit, but once we can get back I can send some people out to add the information to the archives. And we can open these places up to hunters.”

“I’m with you Sam, but we still gotta go make sure they’re safe.” Sam knew he was getting ahead of himself, but wanted this to come together. He wanted to help these people, he needed to help these people, but Dean was right, so he just said:

“Yeah, yeah, you ready for another drive?”

The drive was quiet, Dean didn’t blare his music, and Sam didn’t attempt conversation. There were four other chapter houses, and it took them more like a month to reach them all. From Canton, they went to Portsmouth. The danger there had already been addressed, so they simply looked through, contacted the Men of Letters in town in order to bring them into the loop, and moved on. From there they went to Jamestown. The chapter house there really was a house, a rather large one right next to the water. It was surrounded by a large garden that had fallen into disrepair. From there they moved onto Roswell. Dean was very excited, and kept ranting about aliens. He was touchy after the fairy abduction business though, so Sam tried to avoid riling him up. There was another bunker there, in the desert. It was haunted with some extraterrestrial obsessed Man of Letters, so they had to stay longer to deal with the ghost. Sam was glad when they left, Dean was getting obnoxious with the alien nonsense, and Sam wanted to move on. The last chapter house was in Missoula. It was another apartment-like building, and was clear of evil. That was the last of them and, as Dean helpfully pointed out, there was one per region.

When they arrived back at the bunker Sam went immediately to the phone. He called the Bobbys closest to each of the chapter houses and let them know what he had in mind. Within the week the new information was added to the Interface. Dean had sent out the word about there being places to stay for any hunters who needed a safe place. The chapter houses turned into bases, just as the boys had hoped. Each of them had someone living in it full time, usually a family who wanted a place to settle for a while, but they also served as temporary homes, hospitals, and hideouts. There were other places for hunters of course, bars like the Roadhouse, and private homes owned by hunter families, but this was different. 

Sam was getting a beer out of the fridge when he heard Dean on the phone with a woman. Apparently she had moved with her husband and adopted daughter into the Missoula chapter house, Dean congratulated her and Sam smiled. It was a start.

  
  
  



	7. The School

Dean was standing in the war room, evaluating the progress they had made. The chapter houses had been open to hunters for a couple of months. During that time they had caught on in a way Sam and Dean didn’t expect. Not only did they become bases and meeting places for hunters, they inspired more places like them around the country. Not everyone was near a chapter house, so people began to make their own. Places like Rufus’s cabin and other properties were opened up to anyone who needed a place to stay. There was still some distrust among the hunters, and not everyone was welcome everywhere, but the chapter houses were guaranteed netral zones for hunter conflicts. Despite the popularity of the chapter houses, and the spread of safe spaces for hunters, there were not enough hunters to have these places everywhere in the US. 

Dean looked at the map spread out on the table in the war room. It had pins at all the hunter safe houses, as well as hunter affiliated businesses and allies. As he was contemplating the map, Sam wandered into the room from the library where he had been working. Dean wasn’t sure what being de facto leader of the hunters entailed, but it kept Sam busy. 

“What are you looking for?” At Sam’s question Dean stepped away from the table, but kept his eyes trained on the pins scattered across the country. 

“I was thinking of starting a school.” Dean could feel his brother’s gaze on his face as he continued, “I’ve talked to some of the parents of older kids, and most of them want their kids to go to school. At this point most of the families with young, young, children have settled in a chapter or safe house, but there are still more with older kids who just drag them around like Dad did to us.” There was some bitterness in his tone, and Dean was surprised at himself. He didn’t resent John for their childhood, not really, not like Sam had, but sometimes he wished it was different. Sometimes he wished he had the chance for the apple pie life  _ before  _ he got in so deep there was no going back. “I was thinking we could start a boarding school of some sort, where kids could stay and learn. It would teach them normal stuff but also hunting and lore. Then when they graduate they can choose whether to become a hunter or to try for the apple pie.” Sam was silent after Dean’s pitch. After a few moments he asked,

“Where would it be? Who would teach it? How would we afford it?” Dean had to admit they were all valid questions, but he didn’t have the answers yet.

“I’m not sure. That’s what I’m working on now.” Sam nodded and asked that Dean keep him posted. Dean was rather surprised Sam left him to work on this alone, but he was glad too, this was something he was beginning to realise was... important, to him. He stared at the map for a few more moments before picking up the phone.

It took a few weeks, but Dean found an old orphanage that seemed as though it could serve his purpose. When he visited he found it, unsurprisingly, haunted. Full of little child ghosts, not even dangerous, just sad. It was a long night digging small graves, and burning tiny corpses. Every shovelful of dirt reminded Dean why he was doing what he was doing. He and Sam, they were building a better world for themselves and the hunters yes, but for the children as well. The ones who would keep fighting when the boys’ deaths eventually stuck. For children like these little bodies had been, for children like he had never had the chance to be.

The teachers were harder to find, mostly because the hunter community as a whole was not exactly flush with funds. The breakthrough came from Albert of all people. He had been riled up by something and had come to complain to Sam. He came in while Dean was discussing the teacher dilemma with his brother. Sam was at his usual seat in the library, and Dean was lounging against a bookshelf, beer in hand. 

“I know where you can find some teachers, good ones too.” The brothers looked up in surprise as Albert jogged up the steps from the war room. “I was in lockup for a couple years, I knew guys there who were teachers.” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Why were they in prison?”

“Different things, but they’re good men.”

“I’ll talk to them, give them an interview. How many times have we been arrested now Sammy, or been wanted by the government? I’ve got no problem with ex-cons as long as they’re not gonna be trouble.” Albert accepted Dean’s words, and vouched for everyone he would bring in. A couple of days later the interviews started.

“My name is Andrew, I taught art.”

“My name is Daniel, I taught math.”

“My name is Muhammed, I taught history.”

The list went on, there were only about twenty applicants, and ten positions. They had managed to fill all the openings by the end of the day except a science teacher and someone to teach the hunting aspects. The day after the interviews Dean was on his computer arranging the group of hunters who were going to renovate the orphanage when a woman showed up at the door of the office they had been using to conduct the meetings. 

“My name is Susan, I taught science.” Dean frowned at the blunt introduction,

“We are interested in hiring a science teacher, but how did you know we were looking?”

“I’m a friend of Albert’s, he told me you were looking for teachers.”

“You met him in prison?” Dean gave her a confused look and Susan winced a bit,

“I transitioned, male to female, after I left prison.” Dean took a second after her words before replying,

“Alright.”

“It’s not a problem?”

“No, no, it’ll take me a second but it’s not a problem.” After his requested second Dean completed the interview, and with that, they had their science teacher. Sam pointed out to Dean later when they were discussing the school over dinner; it worked out rather well, as they should have a woman on staff anyway, to be there and chaperone the female students. After another discussion with Sam about the hunting part of the school, Dean elected to go with a rotation of different hunters teaching their specialties and skills. With that the school was pretty much arranged. There was enough money around to buy the necessary supplies, and to pay the teachers a modest salary. 

Dean monitored the school as it started, slowly but surely, with only a few children from grades five to twelve. Many families wanted to keep their children close, and didn’t trust that the school would be safe. So Dean had been careful to securely ward the whole school from demons, ghosts, and all sorts of evil. Once the word got around though, that it was there, and that it was safe, the school grew. Admittedly, there were not many children in the hunter community, likely only about fifty in the country, and they were of all ages. Dean noticed that once there was another option, it became rather uncouth to drag your child around with you. So the school grew, and almost every hunter took a turn coming to teach. 

When Dean came to visit the school after it had started, he recognised a little girl walking down the hall, too young to be a part of the student body. 

“What are you doing here?” The girl looked afraid for a moment, but recognition dawned on her face.

“I danced with you. You swung me around up in the air!” Dean smiled at her.

“Yes I did. I didn’t think I’d see you here, why aren’t you with your guardian. Are they all right?” The child nodded fiercely.

“Mama is teaching the big kids how to do grown up stuff. She is very smart. I made a friend, do you want to meet her?” All of this was said very quickly, but Dean got the gist of it.

“Of course, where is your friend?” The girl, who introduced herself as Macy after prompting from Dean, led him outside to the yard behind the building. There were a couple children there working on what appeared to be an herb garden full of spell ingredients. Macy called out to one of the girls.

“Lucia! Look who I found!” Lucia approached them, dusting off dirt from her hands, and looked appraisingly at Dean.

“Are you Dean Winchester?” When he replied that he was, she grinned. “Alma told me about you, you and your brother got us our new home.” Dean blinked,

“Are you the girl Alma adopted? You guys moved into the Missoula chapter house right? How are they?” She answered his questions, and they talked for a moment, but she had to leave to go to class. Macy tugged at his arm, encouraging Dean to bend down to hear her,

“Lucia is smart like Mama. Someday I will come here to learn and will be smart too.” Dean smiled slightly, but inside he was beaming. When he was her age he was taking care of Sam, his mother had died, and his father seemed more focused on revenge than on loving him. This little girl, she was a child, and not just that, a child that was loved, a child that had a future, a future he had helped to assure. Lucia too, had a home, had her own future, and he had a hand in that as well. For a moment it didn’t matter, all the terrible things he’d done, because those little girls, and all the others, and their parents, and the people their parents saved, were living in a world he had made a little bit better, not by violence, but by offering them a chance to make a home. 

  
  



	8. The People of Letters

Charlie was sitting in her apartment typing furiously when her phone rang. She looked down at it, and was surprised to see ‘Sam Winchester’ on the caller ID. Dean had contacted her a while back to invite her to teach a class on hacking at the school they had set up. She had gone, and it was fun, but she wasn’t really a hunter. She stayed on the fringes of the community, doing her own thing for the most part. In all honesty she was bored, and lonely. Sam had warned her that she couldn’t hide on a mountaintop with wifi, he had warned her that this would happen, but she didn’t want to hunt. She was done fighting. It wasn’t as if she could just integrate back into society either, this wasn’t her world, she hadn’t existed here until a few years ago. So she just lived in her small apartment, doing freelance work online, and hacking corrupt businessmen. Sometimes she would head into town and sit in the coffee shop, sipping on an oversized mug and typing on her laptop, just to get out of the house. On occasion Zara would visit, and they would go to the coffee shop together. They would sit in the window and talk about Zara’s research, and Charlie’s hacking, until the shop closed and they went their separate ways. Those were the best days, but they were few and far between. 

Then Sam called though, with an offer. 

“I want to restart the Men of Letters, in a way. It would be more like a hunter research division. People like the Bobbys who focus more on the lore and magic, but more experimental. Do you want to be a part of it?” Charlie tilted back in her chair and thought about what he was suggesting,

“I don’t really have the magical know-how to help. I can do computers, kill demons, and kill angels, I’m not sure what skills your Charlie had but that’s really all I can do.” She heard Sam scoff lightley at the end of the line,

“I highly doubt that, but what I had in mind for you was more computer focused anyway. The chapter houses all have computers and technologies with unknown purposes. You would be figuring out what they did, and adapting that to today’s technology.” He paused, waiting for an answer. Charlie thought about it, but it wasn’t much of a decision. Messing around with ancient computers full of who knows what types of magic and power sounded like a helluva way to spend her time. So she accepted, 

“Sure, I can do that. I would love to, but I will need someone to help with the magic. I’m assuming there will be magic?” Sam replied with the affirmative, and offered;

“What about Zara? You two hit it off right? And she’s as good at magic as anyone but Dean and I, or a witch.” Mentaly Charlie squealed, but on the exterior she responded that that would work fine, and asked where she should start. “Zara has been working in the Canton chapter house, so why don’t you start there. Other Charlie downloaded all the files and programs off the computer in our bunker. I’m not sure if the same will be possible with the technology in Canton. When Dean and I checked it out there seemed to be different machines of varying applications, but I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“I’m sure I can,” Charlie agreed, her mind already preparing for the task at hand, “Thanks for inviting me to do this.”

“No, thank  _ you _ Charlie, I really appreciate your help.” With that Charlie had a new purpose. She quickly drove to Canton, and pulled up with a squeal of tires in front of the address recorded in the Interface. The door was locked when she tried the handle, but when she knocked she could hear someone rushing toward the door. 

“Who is it?” Inquired a voice on the other side of the door, not suspicious, just cautious.

“My name is Charlie, I’m coming to work on the computers.”

“Oh! Sam told us you would be coming,” the door swung open, “Welcome, welcome!” In the open doorway Charlie was surprised to see a rather grandmotherly woman. “Come in, come in. Zara is already up stairs, but you’ll be wanting to settle in first. There are bedrooms on the fourth and fifth floors. My grandchildren and I are on the fourth floor, and Zara is on the fifth. You can choose either, there’s plenty of room.” Charlie started a little at the energy she was faced with, but thanked the woman, and began to move to the stairway she saw at the end of the hall. “My name is Ruth by the way, and my grandchildren are Tom, Caleb, and Crystal. Tom is off at school, but the little ones still live here.” Charlie nodded, and smiled, and continued to her room. She liked people in general, but she was tired, and grandmothers were not her area of expertise. She ascended the spiral staircase up to the fifth floor, marking the different floors as she did. There was a door with “Zara Jackson” on a temporary name tag, and a couple of other doors that appeared to be empty. Charlie chose a room at the very front of the building, furthest from the staircase, but with the best view. Walking into her room she let out a low whistle of admiration, rather like Dean had done, before setting her stuff down on the thick comforter that covered the bed. Figuring she could get moved in later, Charlie returned to the staircase. She was almost to the bottom when two children, probably six and eight, rushed past her. She could feel the railing digging into her back as she tried to avoid them as they passed, laughing hysterically. 

“Gahh!” Charlie glanced up to where Zara was staring down the stairs. “Those kids are a menace, sweet one moment and then Bam! You’re handcuffed to a chair and your wallet’s gone.” Charlie’s eyebrows drew together for a moment before she realized they were hunter children, and were likely to have some unconventional skills. She pushed herself away from the banister and walked back up the stairs to the third floor where Zara was standing. 

“It’s good to see you! How long have you been here?” Zara, still shaking her head at the quickly receding backs of the children, replied that she’d been there for a week or two working on figuring out how to recreate the magical protections around the house. Apparently the spell she found was incomplete, but she’d managed to finish it up that morning, just in time to help Charlie with the computers. The two women headed over to the first computer and began working. Charlie found that it was actually quite fun, working on the machines and spending time with Zara. After Kara (it just struck Charlie how similar their names were) she had thought she had lost her one chance at love, but then Zara came and a spark of hope flared.  _ If _ Charlie didn’t screw this up. They worked in a companionable silence only broken by warnings or questions until a bell rang somewhere in the house. 

“That’s the signal for dinner. Ruth makes some of the best food I’ve ever tasted, her tamales,” Zara gestured the chef’s kiss, and she and Charlie practically slid down the stairs. When Charlie had lived on her own it was mostly freezer meals or take out, it would be nice to have some home cooked food again. Dinner was as delicious as Zara had promised. Caleb and Crystal were surprisingly well behaved considering the antics Charlie had witnessed earlier. They returned Zara’s wallet. They hadn’t even taken anything, they just liked to practice their skills, and watch the steam come out of her ears. Charlie grinned when she heard that, and offered them a high five. That was something she understood. After supper they all went into the library and Charlie settled into the couch to read the first few chapters of ‘The Hobbit’ aloud. Zara had read it before, but the family had not. They seemed to enjoy it, from the rapt attention on their faces, but bedtime came for the children, and Charlie was beginning to feel her long day. 

Charlie sighed, stood, and stretched. Zara duplicated the movements, and the two of them gazed down at the computer screen in front of them. It had taken Charlie and Zara almost three weeks to get all the information off the computers and into the Interface. There were spells interwoven in the machinery which Zara examined and recorded, but for the most part it was a simple process to adapt the programs and capabilities of the computers to the Interface. It had taken time though, and they could feel their spines protesting about the change from constant hunching. 

The functions they found during their work were quite interesting. There were algorithms to track all kinds of monsters, with the correct input, and ones that would identify artifacts based on markings and historical signifiers. Charlie found herself getting distracted more than once by the decades old data. She was distracted by Zara too. The other woman was beautiful, with kinky black hair, deep chocolate skin, and black eyes that were too kind to be any demon’s. She had the same sense of humor as Charlie, and they were both unabashed nerds. Charlie found herself staring as she worked, simply enjoying the view of Zara being brilliant. They would talk while they worked about their lives (very different), their passions (very similar), and their hopes for the future (very blurry). Charlie told Zara all about Kara, and Zara told Charlie about her ex husband Solomon. Charlie sat criss-crossed during one of their breaks as Zara divulged that he had divorced her right before he went to prison. There he learned about hunting from some man he ran into. Solomon and the other man had been forced to work a haunting in the prison, and had called her for help. When Solomon had been released he had changed his name to Susan, and transitioned to female.

“I know her! She is a teacher at the school that was set up. I met her when I was teaching there for a bit.” Charlie knew she looked rather shocked by this revelation, but Zara did not share her surprise.

“Yeah, this is a small community. People know each other, even more so now that Sam’s built this network, so it makes sense you would know her. It hurts that she left, I mean, it’s nothing like what you went through, but it’s still rough you know? I’m glad she’s happy now though.” This was all said with more than a small touch of sadness, and Charlie felt for her. 

The weeks went on, and she and Zara traveled to the other chapter houses all over the country. It was mostly the same drill at each one, repetitive work in old buildings, but some held unforeseen challenges or unique machines that took some figuring out. Charlie found herself growing closer with Zara, especially after some worrying moments after explosions or spell backlashes. Caleb and Crystal had, rather unexpectedly, become a part of her life as well. She had finished ‘The Hobbit’, but had immediately started in on ‘The Lord of the Rings’, and would call every night to read to them over the phone. Along with that relationship, they met people all over the country. Alma, who Dean had mentioned, and Albert, with whom more conflict erupted until she settled the feud, and suddenly she was about as far from her mountain top as she had ever been. 

Occasionally the phone would ring, as it had to begin this quest, and Sam would ask for an update. He would also keep her in the loop on how the project was going as a whole. He had renamed it the People of Letters, which Charlie thoroughly approved of, and some of the settled hunters, or ones that were more interested in the experimental and lore aspects of the job, had joined. It appeared to be going alright. Sam told her about some of the new artifacts created to sense demons, but they were short on funding. He complained that it wasn’t exactly as if they could just apply for a grant. Sam sounded tired, and Charlie sympathised, but there wasn’t much she could do at this point. 

The car door slammed once again as they arrived back in Canton. When she and Zara were done with the chapter house computers they returned home. Charlie almost stumbled when that work occurred to her. She hadn’t even lived there a month, but she found it applied. There they worked on expanding and improving the Interface, as well as integrating spell work into it to smooth out some issues. Charlie and Zara grew closer the longer they worked together. It took them a while to move past their past loves, but eventually, they admitted that they might have found it again in each other. Ruth gave them knowing looks when they began sharing a room, but it was not judgmental, and she expressed to them how happy she was that they had found each other. The two of them, Ruth, and the children became a sort of family, and adapted to the changes to come, together. It filled a part of Charlie that had been empty for a long time when Ruth wrapped her up in a hug after a long day, and told her everything was going to be alright. It filled another empty part when Zara kissed her softly before they went to bed, and it soothed some past hurts when Caleb and Crystal cuddled up to her on the couch while she read to them. The word stayed in her mind, creating a safe place there that echoed the one she had found in the real world,  _ Home. _

  
  
  



	9. The Confession

Eileen let the door to the bunker close softly behind her and descended the staircase into the war room. She hadn’t been back here since she left, but it was almost exactly as she remembered it. It had taken her a long time to come to terms with what Chuck had done to her. She had traveled all over the country, sometimes hunting, sometimes just moving. On occasion it felt foolish, like some sort of kitchy spirit quest, but she needed to feel in control again. It had taken her months to wash away the feeling in her mind of Chuck’s forcing, groping, power. By then she was in Washington, standing on a bridge in Seattle, letting the rain wash away the last of her tears. She wasn’t sad per se, the tears were cleansing, and cathartic, but she realised she wanted to see someone, to not be so alone. So she had come back here. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what she expected to find. News of what Sam and Dean were doing had reached her, and she’d been added to the hunter network, so she half expected the bunker to be bustling full of people. She didn’t see anyone as she reached the bottom of the stairs, but when she walked into the library she was faced with a familiar form. 

“Sam?” Her voice was rough from emotion and disuse. The man turned and Eileen saw that it was indeed Sam.

“Eileen?” He stared for a moment, his eyes uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure she was real. Eileen had almost begun to worry, until he walked toward her, with slow, cautious steps and wrapped her up in a hug. He enveloped her, his chin resting on her head, and one of his hands softly petting her hair. She relaxed into his arms, it felt right, and she had been so long by herself. Sam stepped back and held her at arms length, examining her. “Are you alright? I’ve been worried about you.” She can see from the bags under his eyes and the slump of his shoulders that she’s not all he’s been worrying about.

“Yes, I’m fine, but you! Look at you! Are you sick?” Her tone is full of forced lightness. He offers her a soft smile at her attempt to conceal her concern. 

“No no, I’m not sick, just tired. Come, sit down, tell me about where you’ve been.” As he talks he takes her hand and leads her to the table where he was working. Eileen moves aside some of the papers and books before settling into a chair across from Sam. He is motionless, waiting for her story, and she begins to sign (her voice was getting tired, she really hadn’t talked much for months).

_ I’ve been traveling around the country. Mostly out west. Just trying to clear my head you know? There’s not much to tell, just a lot of driving and thinking, trying to process.  _ Sam seems to be following, and when he responds he does so in sign. Eileen can tell he’s been practicing, he’s almost fully conversational now, and she smiles to herself.

_ Do you feel better now, safe?  _

_ Yeah, it took me a while, but, yeah. How do you do it? How do you handle it? I mean you get possessed, or manipulated, or controlled, constantly.  _ She couldn’t hear the laugh Sam let out, but from the look on his face it was a bitter one. 

_ It wrecks me every time.  _ The look on his face broke her heart, but the honesty he gave her made it buzz with warmth.  _ It wrecks me every time, but I’m, I’m used to it now, used to the feeling. I just hold on to however much of myself I can find and fight till it’s over.  _ Every word looked like it pained him, and Eileen touched his hand.

_ It’s alright, you are safe now. I am safe. We are here together and we need not ever suffer in such a way again.  _ She held eye contact as her hands moved, and Sam offered her a small smile.

“I hope you’re right.” His mouth formed the words while his hands lay tightly fisted on the table. They sat for a moment before Sam stood.

_ Do you want some food, coffee? _

_ Sure.  _ They walked to the kitchen and Sam handed Eileen a mug. “Where’s Dean? I thought there would be people all over the place.”

_ Dean is at the school. He spends a lot of time there, teaching, and helping out. Sometimes there are more people here, but often it’s just me. Now that there are other hunter spaces people spread out more, and there aren’t so many of us that there’s a bunch of free time to hang out. _

_ What do you do? I heard you are the boss now.  _ Eileen was teasing, but Sam didn’t return her smile. 

_ It’s funny how much work there is. We used to stay to ourselves, and on occasion join up for a difficult hunt.  _ Eileen nodded in understanding.  _ Now that everyone is closer together there is more conflict. You know how hunters are. I spend a lot of time settling disputes. The new lore has caused some problems as well. There is so much powerful magic and knowledge easily available. Some people have taken advantage of that. I had to set up a sort of justice system to keep people in line.  _ Sam let his hands fall into his lap. 

_ How about the People of Letters?  _ Eileen asked.

_ It’s going well, but there’s no real income. You can’t use credit card scams for this type of stuff, or pool hustling. This whole system is very precariously balanced and I’ve been running around keeping the top spinning.  _ “I’m sorry.” He said suddenly, “for dumping all this on you. Really it hasn’t been all that bad, and I can see it helping. I’m not sure what the exact numbers were before, but I’m certain hunter casualties have gone down. Dean’s school was a stroke of brilliance, and I know he’s proud of it. I’m proud of him.” He trailed off, and Eileen was tempted to offer him a hug, when he stood up from his seat at the kitchen table. 

_ Here, I’ll show you your room. Do you have bags?  _ Eileen frowned, but allowed him the abrupt change of subject. She picked up the bags she had dropped in the war room and Sam led her down a hall to an open door.  _ This is my room if you need anything. Your room is just down the hall.  _ He pointed to another door. When he opened it Eileen found a room very similar to the one she had stayed in the last time she was here.  _ You know where everything is, but if you ever have any questions ask. I’ll be here.  _ It was a statement, and a promise, and Eileen was grateful. 

Eileen quickly found that Sam had not been kidding when he said being the boss was a lot of work. For all the bunker was empty when she arrived, there was usually at least one person coming to talk to Sam. They had started calling him Chief, the title he had been given by the survivors of the apocalypse world, and whenever Dean was around he ragged on Sam for it. When the bunker was empty Sam was doing paperwork (Eileen was never sure what for), or helping hunters in the field who were dealing with larger scale problems. One day while Eileen was sitting in the war room researching a case a woman and a young girl walked into the room. 

“Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of the Chief?” Eileen smiled a little at the title but nodded,

“Sam is in the library.” The woman thanked her and made her way over to where Sam was working. Eileen didn’t try to see what they were talking about, but she did make eye contact with the daughter. The little girl came over and sat next to Eileen.

“Watcha doin’?”

“I’m researching a case.”

“Oh.” The child seemed to consider that, and then held out a hand. “My name is Macy, what’s yours?” Eileen introduced herself and she and Macy began to get acquainted. She did have to remind the child to speak more slowly. Macy talked so fast Eileen couldn’t read her lips, and when she explained this the girl gave her a funny look. “You can’t read lips! You read words!” This sparked a new discussion and by the time her mother was done talking with Sam they had become fast friends. Eileen didn’t get along great with people in general, she preferred to work alone, but Macy was a ray of sunshine Eileen couldn’t help but love. When Macy’s mother came over to the two of them she smiled, and introduced herself as Tara. Apparently they would be staying in the bunker for a while. They had been staying in the chapter house in Jamestown, but one of the hunters who was staying there had gotten violent, so they left quickly. The two of them moved into one of the other guest rooms, and the bunker suddenly got a lot more lively. 

Eileen didn’t go with Sam to deal with the hunter who had caused problems, but when he returned his knuckles were bruised and he assured Tara there would be no more issues with that particular gentleman. Tara enrolled Macy in the school in Lebanon, but still mostly stayed in town. Every once in a while she would join Eileen on a hunt, but mostly she helped Sam with administrative work. When Eileen asked her why she responded with;

“I got into hunting to avenge my husband and to protect my daughter. I can do that best by being alive. Plus, I have to pick her up from school so I can’t wander too far. I might start hunting again when she gets older and goes to the School, but for now I’ll work here.” Eileen couldn’t argue with that, so, as she had before, Eileen hunted alone. She invited Sam to come with her, but he declined. Eileen figured it was for the best, he still looked tired all the time. It was not surprising considering all the work he was doing, but she couldn’t help but feel there was something else going on. Once when she came back from a hunt she found Tara sitting in the kitchen nursing a cup of hot cocoa. 

“What are you doing up at two in the morning? Is everything alright?” Tara sighed,

“Everything’s fine, I was woken up by footsteps and couldn’t get back to sleep.” At Eileen’s suddenly concerned look she rushed to add, “It was just Sam, nothing to worry about, but I’m awake now. Would you like some hot cocoa?” Eileen declined, and walked down the hall to Sam’s door. It was open, just a crack, and when she looked inside it was empty. She continued on, past her room, until she saw a pool of light spilling out of a doorway. She walked closer and observed that it was the door to the gym. Pushing into the room she stopped abruptly at the sight of Sam, standing shirtless, hitting a punching bag with single minded intensity. She watched for a moment before catching herself and calling out to him. Sam did not turn, he simply kept striking the bag. Eileen approached him and lightly grabbed his arm. In a moment she was slammed up against the wall and Sam was staring down at her, his arm at her throat. Just as quickly he had stepped away from her.

_ I’m so sorry! You snuck up on me. _

_ I called your name, didn’t you hear me? _

_ I wasn’t really awake. I let my mind sleep while I move. _

_ That can’t work. _

_ It’s better than nothing.  _ After he finished signing Sam unwrapped his hands and pulled on his shirt. His words hinted to Eileen at the cause of his tired eyes. If he didn’t sleep there was no way he could maintain the pace he’s set. He turned away from her, walking into the hall towards his room. She followed close behind. Sam made it all the way to his room before turning back to face her. Eileen looked at him as he sat down on the edge of his bed. 

_ Tell me. You’ll feel better, and I want to understand. You know I will understand. _

_ I know.  _ There he paused before continuing;  _ Before,  _ He stopped again. “Before, there was always something. There was always a big bad to fight, an apocalypse to avert. Dean and I, we saved the world. That became our job. Not just hunters, we didn’t just save people, we saved everyone.” It wasn’t a brag, it was the truth, and he continued; “We lost so much, both of us. You know some of it, but it was so much, so much loss. A lot of it was our fault too. So many of those world ending events were brought upon by us, and our actions. Our inability to let each other go set so many of those events in motion. Honestly, I don’t know whether the lives we’ve saved outweigh those that were lost due to our mistakes.” Eileen could feel the confession in that statement, but even then Sam kept going. “We kept going, we had to, we couldn’t just leave to let everyone else clean up our mistakes. So on we went, that whole time just pushing everything down, all the tragedy and the suffering. Even the stuff orchestrated by Chuck, it still happened, we still had to deal with that. You know that as much as the rest of us.” Nodding, Eileen dropped to her knees in front of him so she could still see his lips when he dropped his head. “Now that everything’s settled down, all that crap has come back out to play. I used to sleep. Not very much, no hunter sleeps much,” Eileen kept nodding, but stayed silent. “But some. Nightmares came and they went, but I was exhausted and for the most part I would just collapse into bed. Out like a light. Now though, all that stuff I pushed down and put away for later, it’s calling in it’s dues. It gets worse and worse, every night is something new, some things I had blocked out completely. Guilt I had to put aside, everything, it’s all flooding in. So now I stay up, and the exercise keeps away the demons while my mind takes a break. I’m tired all the time, but not so tired I can’t work, and the work is keeping me going.” He paused for a moment, catching his breath, but still continued. “I feel like here, what Dean and I are building, could make up for the other stuff. I mean, maybe not in our lifetimes, but even afterwards this could keep saving lives, and making lives better. I need to believe that Eileen. I need to believe that my legacy won’t just be the bittersweet, semi-victories Dean and I suffered through. Do you understand?” Those last sentences were desperate, Sam’s voice harsh. Eileen sat for a moment, processing the outburst. When she returned her eyes to Sam’s face she was shocked to see tears there, falling slowly from tired eyes. 

Eileen knew nightmares. She had faced monsters in her day. She had gone to hell, and been violated by God, but she knew that this was something different. This could not be fixed by a spirit quest to Washington, hell, even her problems hadn’t been fixed by the spirit quest to Washington. She didn’t know how to make this right, didn’t think this could be made right, so she just held him until his tears stopped. She carefully wiped the wet lines from his cheeks, and leaned her forehead against his, keeping him close. 

Eventually Sam disengaged himself from her arms and stood from the bed.  _ Thank you. Thank you for listening. You should, you should go to sleep now. I know you’ve had a long day.  _ It was not a dismissal, just embarrassment and concern, so Eileen stayed.

_ Come with me?  _ Sam jerked his head up and Eileen grinned.  _ Just to sleep, unless…  _ Sam laughed, and it was only a little forced. 

_ Sure.  _ He followed Eileen to her room and lay next to her on the bed. She found herself curling into his chest, and felt his arms wrap around her. Before long she had fallen asleep, and when she awoke Sam was still there, holding her, but she didn’t think he’d slept.

  
  



	10. The Angel

Dean could hear the screaming from outside the bunker’s garage. Blood rushed in his ears as he leapt out of the car and practically sprinted into the bunker, every terrible possibility running through his head. Stopping abruptly in the doorway he breathed a heavy sigh of relief at the sight of Eileen chasing Macy around the table in the war room. The child was screaming and laughing in glee. 

“Macy! What are you doing? It’s time to go to school.” Tara’s voice called out from the kitchen. “Eileen, stop encouraging her!” Dean watched as Tara collected her daughter and began herding her out the door. He smiled, even as he worked to calm his breathing and adrenaline. Looking across the room he saw Sam standing in the opening of the hallway. His brother’s expression was a mirror of what Dean was sure his own face looked like. He was about to cross the room when Eileen approached Sam. She stood close and he leaned his head down to hear her. They made a pretty picture, silhouetted in the doorway, and Dean could tell something had changed since the last time he had seen them together. He watched as Sam gave Eileen a tight smile and squeezed her shoulder, before he left her side and headed toward Dean. 

“Hey, you ok?” Dean cleared his expression, and ignored Sam’s concern. 

“Yeah, kid just startled me is all. What’s up between you and Eileen?” This comment was accentuated by an eyebrow waggle, which Sam appeared to ignore. 

“Nothing like that, get your mind out of the gutter. What are you doing back anyway? I thought you were visiting Cesar and Jesse.”

“I was, but they had to head out of town at the last minute. So, I cut my visit short and came back here.” Sam shrugged, clapped him on the back in welcome, and walked to the library where it looked as though there was a makeshift office set up. Eileen approached Dean and he mentioned, “He looks better.” 

“So do you.” Dean couldn’t argue with that, visiting the Cuevas’ had been a nice break. They were living proof it was possible to live a good life after hunting, and Dean needed to believe in that possibility despite the fact that he would likely never truly stop hunting. 

Dean settled down into an armchair in the library with his computer. It had been a couple of hours since Macy had left for school, and he was amazed by the silence. That kid would talk nonstop about anything, and when she was gone you noticed. It made Dean suddenly and intensely miss Jack. Walking over to Sam, Dean coughed. Sam looked up,

“What do you want, jerk, I’m working.”

“Bitch,” Dean muttered, “I know Cas said we couldn’t just waltz into Heaven whenever we like, but that’s bullshit. How do we make a portal or something?” Sam was silent, and Dean prepared to argue, when Sam suggested;

“Did you try praying to Cas? He might let us up without all the work on our side.”

“He’s the one who said we couldn’t just waltz in!”

“Yeah but we wouldn’t be waltzing in, we’d have called first. Plus, Jack is our kid too.”

“Damn right, ok, I’ll call Cas.” So Dean sent up a prayer to Castiel, and the brothers waited. A few moments later they heard the rustling that indicated an angel had arrived. The boys spun quickly. “Cas! I knew you couldn’t stay away!” Dean clapped Cas on the back as the angel pointed out;

“You called me?”

“He’s teasing Cas.” Sam said before giving his friend a hug. “How are you? How is Jack, and Heaven?”

“I'm alright. Jack is good, Heaven is getting better.”

“That’s what I like to hear. So, are we leaving now or what?” Dean gave Cas a look that said he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Cas caved. 

“Fine. We still need a portal though.” Dean let out a frustrated breath but Sam and Cas made the portal outside, above the bunker, and all three of them left for Heaven. 

Heaven was as it had always been, white and sterile. Dean shivered slightly, and tried to avoid the heebie-jeebies. They followed Cas to the throne room where Jack was sitting. 

“Jack!” Sam and Dean said in unison. The boy jumped a bit and looked up to see them.

“Sam, Dean! I thought you were supposed to stay on Earth.”

“You know us kid, couldn’t stay away.” Jack smiled at Dean’s words and stepped down from the throne. There were hugs all around, and Dean couldn’t help but wrap him in a crushing grip. Only when Jack began patting him on the back and wiggling a little did Dean let him go.

“Sorry I didn’t see you come in. I was listening to prayers, there are so many of them.”

“People are needy, that’s for sure.” San shot Dean a sharp look.

“Like you’ve haven’t sent up as many prayers as the rest of them.”

“Yeah, well I knew it was legit.”

“So do they! Or they believe!” Before Dean could retort Cas broke in,

“Stop arguing, you really can’t stay up here long. It will disrupt the other angels.” Dean was rather hurt by Cas’s apparent cold shoulder. Jack and Sam had started talking near the throne about who knows what, probably some touchy feely stuff, Sam was good at that. So Dean blurted;

“What's up Cas! You keep telling us to stay away. Is something wrong, what’s going on?” Castiel sighed at Dean's complaint.

“Heaven is in limbo right now. Our numbers were decimated, and It’s taking a lot of Jack's strength to keep Heaven running until he makes enough angels to support it. And Dean,” Cas added when Dean prepared to interrupt, “I’ve been working nonstop to teach Jack everything he needs to know about the angels and Heaven. He’s basically God now.” Dean frowned at the title, and argued;

“Sure, but you gotta let us in. We’re his family too Cas. If he’s gonna be different than Chuck, than the Archangels, than _you,_ he needs to be human as well.” Cas sighed, 

“I know, it's really not me. Jack is God now, he's omnipotent, he's changed.” Dean shot a worried look at the boy. "Don't worry," Castiel quickly assured him. "He's still our Jack, just older now, inside. He wants to leave when he's done fixing heaven."

Dean frowned. “I don't want the boy to leave, but that doesn't mean it's not a good idea. Chuck's method is not one to emulate." Castiel nodded, but did not seem holey convinced. Dean couldn't blame him, Jack walking off into the sunset felt wrong somehow, but it was the boy's choice. Plus he's God, there's not much they could do to stop him. “Discussions for the future, shall we join the party?” The two of them walked over to Sam and Jack who were laughing about something. The group of them sat for hours, talking and answering Jack’s questions, until at last it was time to go. Sam and Dean stood, and after another round of hugs, returned to the portal. Stepping through, they were abruptly back at the bunker. The brothers stood a moment before Sam ended the spell and the portal disappeared. 

“We’re going to have to find a system to do that.” Sam pointed out. 

“Yeah, I’m not just leaving Jack up there in that power washed wasteland.” The bunker was empty when they walked in, so Sam went back to work, but Dean couldn’t focus. He knew Jack taking over Heaven, with Castiel’s help, was an elegant solution. It still felt wrong though, to stick that kid up there, and put him in charge of that bureaucratic nightmare. Maybe Cas was right, maybe this time it would be different, with new angels and new rules. Dean hoped so, he wouldn’t wish Heaven on anyone, much less Jack. That kid deserved better. There were times when Dean hated him a bit, for Mary’s death, and everything else, but after Jack got his soul back Dean knew he couldn't truly hate the boy. “I suppose this was how Bobby felt.” The words echoed through the empty room, and suddenly Dean missed the _before_ , when life was simpler. That rabbit hole was cut short though, as Macy and Tera returned and the bunker was once more filled with laughter. Dean chastised himself. You can’t go back, he knew that, you just gotta keep moving forward, make the present as good as the past and make the future better.

  
  



	11. The Allies

Sam was sitting at one of the large tables in the library, staring into the empty silence of the bunker. Tara and Macy had moved back to the Jamestown chapter house once the school year had ended. It was a better place to raise a child, and the problematic hunter had been dealt with, but their absence made the bunker feel very vacant. Dean was often traveling to help at the School, or with difficult hunts, and Eileen had been out hunting as well. So Sam was left alone. People still came in with suggestions, complaints, and problems, but for the most part the work he was doing now was building connections with law enforcement and other resources. Sam would sometimes still go on hunts, but while he was there he would connect with the police, local churches, and any witches or psychics in town. 

Sam considered their growing list of allies. Most of the police officers he recruited were ones he saved, or worked with. Many had promised that they would act rather as Jody had in the beginning, reporting suspicious activity that held the markers of the supernatural. Other hunters had begun doing the same, and after a while there was an admittedly small network of sheriffs and officers who sent Sam cases, which he then distributed. On occasion one of them would also help cover for a hunter, if at all possible. The churches were rather the same. A priest or rabbi or something would be rescued and they would generally offer aid. Slowly, slowly, churches, synagogues, mosques, and temples across the US began offering shelter and supplies to hunters. Sam had been concerned as at first there was some tension as beliefs clashed slightly. It soon became clear though, that this was a good resource, and Sam sent out a strongly worded message to all the hunters to  _ get over it. _ There were other, smaller allies as well, waitresses, farmers, and other people who had been saved, would sometimes offer a free meal, or a place to stay. These little things that made the job easier and more palatable. Hunting was often a thankless task, but Sam found sometimes a smile and a free cup of coffee at midnight made it less so.

Sam allowed a smile to slip onto his face as he evaluated their newest allies. The witches and physics were a stroke of genius if Sam could say so himself. Psychics had often helped hunters, but there was never any organization to it. Sam had been talking to Jody and the girls when Patience mentioned a vision she’d had. It had struck Sam that this could be an opportunity. So he’d sent out the word that if anyone found a true psychic, they should be invited to act as a consultant for the hunters. As far as he could tell there was no true community of psychics, so he’d invited them to join up. Many took them up on the offer. A new area was added to the Interface to integrate them in. Psychics would report on visions or insights they had gained that seemed relevant to hunting, and hunters could ask for help on cases. 

The witches had been a bit more complicated. Dean for one, was completely against it at first, but Sam had convinced him to give it a shot. Sam was sure that Dean had only caved because he knew Sam was convinced this was the best thing for the community, and Dean’s grumbling rather proved that. Sam had been working on the law enforcement allies when he reconnected with James and Portia, the police officer turned witch and his familiar. The three of them got to talking, and Sam had asked whether any other witches would be interested in becoming a part of the hunter community. That began a discussion which spanned many weeks, with both witches and hunters. There was significant tension at first, between the two parties, but eventually they had come to an agreement. Sam had met with what remained of the Grand Coven. Rowena had already discovered they were falling apart and were suffering a power vacuum, so Sam had offered to join the two groups. The witches would maintain relative autonomy, but had to keep their members in line. Hunters wouldn’t bother any coven witch who followed the rules agreed upon by both groups, but if the coven failed to deal with members who stepped out of line the hunters would. Rules were drawn up, agreements made, and the two groups joined. Some witches began helping hunters, or the People of Letters, while others continued as they had been. A symbiotic relationship was eventually established between the two groups. Sam frowned though, as he thought of the transition. After the initial integration a group of hunters had formed who opposed it, and wanted to remove Sam from power. A similar group formed on the side of the witches, and conflict had begun brewing. The events that followed went down in hunting history as some of the most absurd known to the community, and Sam couldn’t disagree with the sentiment. 

The leader of the hunter splinter group was named Robert, and he challenged Sam for the position of ‘Chief’. Sam had held a vote, which he won (most people recognized the positive changes he had enacted), but Robert then challenged him to a one on one fight. When Dean had heard about that he’d literally cried laughing, before excitedly offering to serve as Sam’s second. The day of the fight had dawned and practically everyone came out to see. The match had promised to be an both important and entertaining event, no one was going to miss it. Hunters, witches, and some miscellaneous allies had shown up to see what was about to go down. The match was held in a simple arena and when the contestants had arrived they walked into the ring to thunderous applause and heckling. This event, like the meeting, had turned into a sort of party, centered around the fight. Sam leaned back in his chair as he flashed back to the fight itself. 

_ He stood with Dean in his corner.  _

_ “Dude, this is surreal! I kinda wish I were Chief, just for this fight.” Sam rolled his eyes at Dean. _

_ “Sure, but you don’t want any of the other work.” Dean acknowledged this, and the fight began. The two men were of an age, but while Robert was tall he was a good deal shorter than Sam. The two men pulled off their shoes and their shirts to much whistling and stomping. Dean pulled Sam down and spoke in his ear so Sam could hear him, _

_ “You got him beat no problem. Remember what I’ve taught you Sammy, and you cannot fail.” Dean winked, and Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. The two contestants faced off in the arena. “Before we begin, do either of you have anything to say?” Dean had been made the emcee of the fight, and was practically beaming in glee. Robert began, _

_ “You don’t deserve to call yourself a hunter, much less our leader. Letting these evil bitches into our ranks is going against everything we believe in.” His words were met by mixed cheers and boos. Once the crowd had quieted slightly Sam said his piece. He straightened to his full height. Usually Sam slumped slightly, almost unconsciously, to seem less intimidating, but this was not the time for that. So Sam rose, pushing back his shoulders, and looked down his nose at Robert.  _

_ “These people could be valuable allies, they have been valuable allies, and you are letting a fraction of their people represent the whole group. You’re letting your own cowardice and prejudice lead you, and are trying to cover for it by initiating this fight, and this conflict as a whole.” Sam’s words were rather too logical for the mob at this point, but they cheered and booed all the same. Thus the true fight began. It became clear quickly that Robert was outmatched. Dean and John had taught Sam to fight almost as soon as he was old enough to know what a fight was, and he had rarely stopped fighting since then. He was also big, and the hours upon hours he had spent in the gym instead of sleeping had paid off. The bout went quickly and soon Robert was on the ground, Sam’s knee at his throat. The crowd erupted, someone threw a punch, and a full of brawl began. Sam could see Dean whaling away at some of Robert’s supporters, and knew that this would only end badly. He tried to call out for everyone to stop, but no one could hear him, so instead he left. Returning to the bunker he found the spell he was looking for, gathered the ingredients, and returned to the building they had been using for an arena. He forced his way through the crowd to the center where he prepared the spell. Suddenly everyone froze, except for Sam, and he stood.  _

_ “All of you stop. I won the vote, I won the fight, and this is madness. We will join with the witches, and if there are any problems, on either side, you will answer to me. Now are you ready to stop acting like children, and get back to business?” No one replied, as they were all still frozen, but when Sam released them the fighting stopped. Most people left, chastised, and Robert came over to accept defeat.  _

_ “You know for someone who never had a mother you sure have the voice down.” Sam turned to see Jody behind him. “That was badass Sam, I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. I mean, did you see Dean?” Sam laughed as well, and with that, the pushback from the hunters was quelled. _ The conflict with the witches had been less amusing, but it was over now. Some of the witches had still not been pleased with the new rules. Sam had begun finding hex bags all over the bunker. He’d started working on a spell to trace them to their maker, and after a week or so he figured it out. The leader of the witch group had been quite surprised when she came into her apartment to find Sam sitting there. There was an exchange, verbal, physical, and magical, and Sam had walked out with one less problem to deal with. While he hadn’t killed the witch, who turned out to be named Savannah, he had gotten her to dissolve her anti-hunter group. With that settled, the witches grew into a solid alliance, and the hunters began to see that things were beginning to change in a larger way than they had foreseen. Sam pulled himself from his reveries and back to work, but a small spark of pride stayed in his eyes.


	12. The Monsters

Sam skidded around the corner, buck naked, and almost slammed into Dean who was standing patiently at the door. Garth ran up behind him, panting heavily. 

“I’m so sorry Dean, it was bath time and Sam here just had to make a break for it.” Dean laughed,

“My Sam was just the same when he was little, where’s Castiel?” He followed Garth upstairs as the conversation continued. “I can come back later if this isn’t a good time.” Dean said cautiously, as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom where Garth was attempting to force Sam into the tub. 

“No no, go ahead.” This was followed by some spluttering as Sam splashed water in his face. Garth waited as Dean arranged his thoughts, and then listened as the other man laid them out.

“In all honesty this was Sam’s idea. He’s the one who was always more… understanding of things.” Garth nodded, that definitely lined up with what he’d seen of the brothers. “Eileen forced him to take a break from working though, so they are off vacationing somewhere. He wanted me to come and get the ball rolling with you while he was gone.” Dean stopped and Garth sighed, exasperated.

“Just get on with it! What has Sam come up with this time?”

“He wants to set up rehabilitation and support centers for new or wavering vampires, werewolves, etc.” Garth was not surprised by much, but this threw him for a loop. “Obviously some of these have to be killed if they are far gone and murdering people, but Sam, and I, want to set up somewhere for newly turned or, good ones, like you and Lenore.” Garth could tell Dean was trying very hard not to say monsters, but the idea was an intriguing one. 

“I see, I see, and you want my help?” Dean nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“Sam and I can handle the basics, but we’ll need you to spread the word and help us make our space safe for those we bring in.” Garth could tell that they were serious about this, even though the idea was fairly absurd. Absurdity had never stopped him though, so he agreed.

“I’ll help you guys, anything you need, just let me know.” Garth could see Dean’s relief at those words, and it suddenly struck him the stress these boys must be under. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” Garth asked, trying to conceal his concern, he had a feeling it would not be appreciated by Dean. 

“No, no, I’d better be getting back, but thank you. Say hi to the family for me.” Garth nodded in understanding, and walked with Dean to the door. “Thanks again Garth. It means a lot.”

“Sure man anytime,” and Garth meant it. Dean waved goodbye to the now clean Sam as he left, and the door swung shut behind him. Garth turned from the door and let out a sigh. Sam looked up at him questioningly and Garth scooped him up. “Daddy is going to try to change the world, isn’t that cool Sammy?” Sam just giggled, and Garth bounced him a little. “Well now we just wait I suppose. Do you want to play a game while we pass the time?” Together they settled on the carpet in the lying room and spilled the blocks onto the floor.

Garth was sitting at the dinner table when he heard his phone ring from the other room. “That’s Sam’s ringtone.” Garth looked at his wife, 

“Yes it is, but he can wait until after dinner.” Bess smiled at him, and Garth returned the look. After the meal was over Garth called Sam back. 

_ Hello? _

“This is Gath.”

_ Oh hey Garth. _

“You called?”

_ Yeah, we came into some land.  _ Garth didn’t ask how they came into the land, he didn’t want to know.  _ We think it could work as a place to bring werewolves and vampires to teach them to be… good. It has a sturdy building with a large basement as well as animals. Do you have any suggestions of what we will need to keep everyone safe?  _ Garth walked with the phone into his office in the basement and pulled out a sheet of paper. He had already made a rudimentary list of what they would need, so he was prepared. Settling down into his chair he began to list them off. The conversation with Sam lasted for almost two hours.  _ Alright, I think I have a good idea of what needs to be done. Shall I call you when it’s ready so you can come through and double check? _

“Definitely, and don’t hesitate to ask me any more questions you might have. Just pop by sometime too, we love seeing you guys!” Sam laughed on the other side of the line, but Garth was pretty sure he wouldn't stop by. He said his goodbyes and hung up the phone. From the sounds upstairs there was a small herd of Elephants running through the house, so Garth headed up to deal with the possible repercussions of such an unlikely occurrence. At the top of the staircase he paused, and watched Gertie and her friends as they raced through the room in front of him. 

“They weren’t bothering you were they?” Bess asked in concern, as she sidled up next to him. “I asked them to quiet it down and was informed that pirates don’t need to be quiet. I couldn’t argue with that logic, but I could press the issue.” Garth grinned at his wife as his daughter rushed passed again.

“No need, the only thing that quiets pirates is  _ meaner _ pirates!” He pulled a wicked twinkle into his eye, and shared a grin with Bess before rushing after the now screaming children. 

It was another couple of months of normal life before he heard from Sam again. The boys had sent gifts over for Christmas though. A set of lockpicks for Gertie, and tiny Bobby caps for the twins. They were thoughtful gifts, and Garth had returned the favor with a matching set of wolf footie pajamas. He received a text from Eileen with the brothers looking very uncomfortable, dressed in the PJs, in front of a tiny Christmas tree. He hung the picture up on the refrigerator, it still made him smile. The call from Sam came eventually though, inviting him out to the farm in Kansas they had been working on. 

Garth drove along the perfectly flat Kansas roads until he arrived at the address Sam had sent him. The long drive he found himself on led up to a huge farmhouse. He could see a couple of large barns nearby, as well as some fields, and a large garden. It seemed a nice place, and as Garth stepped out of the car he noticed a storm cellar only a short distance from the house. That boded well for this house fitting his criteria for a safe place. Approaching the door, Garth prepared to knock when the door opened. Sam stood in the doorway covered in flour. 

“Sorry for the mess, I was baking. Come in!” Sam stepped back into the house and swung the door further open. Garth moved into the entryway, careful not to nudge Sam on his way in. The farmhouse was large on the inside as well, with high ceilings, and creaky floors. It felt like home, not his home, but someone’s. He followed Sam to the enormous kitchen which smelled like apple pie. Sam dusted some of the flour off his clothes, and set a timer on his phone. “Alright, I’ll give you the tour and by then it will be time for the pie to come out. You ready?” Garth gestured for Sam to lead the way, he liked to see the large man being so domestic, it fit him somehow. Sam led the way out of the kitchen. “On the ground floor there is a living room, a dining room, the kitchen, a library, and a bathroom. There’s also a sun porch over there,” He pointed through the library to a door on the other side of the room. “The basement is three rooms; a cellar, a storage room, and a main laundry room area.” The stairs down to the basement were cool, and Garth could smell the musty scent of ‘underground’. He kept following Sam as the other man returned to the ground floor, and from there took the stairs to the next floor. On this floor we have three bedrooms and a bathroom. The third floor is more of an attic but it has another two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a living room type area.” When they arrived back in the kitchen Sam pulled out the pie, but kept describing the property. There is a storm cellar, a cow barn, and another barn for the assorted other animals. There are also some smaller houses elsewhere on the property.” There he stopped. “I’m gonna call Dean, he is out with Eileen checking in on the animals.” Garth almost scoffed at that.

“You guys are not farmers, how are you going to handle all of this?” Garth thought Sam looked rather sheepish.   
“We aren’t farmers, but Albert. You know him?” Garth nodded, “Albert used to be a farmer, and he wanted to retire from hunting so we’re putting him in charge.” Garth raised his eyebrows, Albert had not struck him as the most accepting hunter, but people can change, so he didn’t say anything. Sam must have caught the look though, because he laughed a little. “He may not share our politics on some things, but he was pretty open to this idea. I think his backstory might have something to do with it, but I didn’t ask.” That Garth could understand, so he just let it go. After a few more minutes of conversation while trying to ignore the tantalizing smell of the pie Dean and Eileen walked in. There were greetings all around, but they quickly fell onto the pie. When everyone had eaten their fill Garth started talking business. 

“This is a good setup here, we have animals for blood and hearts and whatnot, there are places to chain up wolves on the full moon, and it feels good and safe. I’m gonna invite Jim, my father in law, to live out here and help the werewolves. He’s been a little lost since Bess’ mom’s betrayal. If you guys can find a vampire to serve the same purpose that would work best. Other than that, just keep the hunters under control, and don’t forget about the people you dump here.” At those words he gave a sharp look to the brothers. Sam and Dean always had good intentions, but often they tended to leave the little people in the dust unconsciously. The two of them looked incredibly guilty, and Garth almost felt bad. After that there was a little more conversation, but most of it was friendly catching up. 

Every couple of weeks Garth would pop over to the Farm and check in. It caught on slowly, like so many of the boys’ ideas, but it began to come together. The people who were brought there were taught how to control their urges, and were given a reason to. Many times when Garth was visiting he would see one of the brothers, or another hunter there, just hanging out. It took a few years, but eventually a community grew. It was and was not a part of the hunter community, but the two supported each other as all the other allies that the Winchesters had established did. After a while there was no more room on the Farm, so people bought more land nearby until that whole area was ‘monsters’. It was strange to go there, by himself, or with his family, and see the harmony that had come into being. Garth had always been a hopeful guy, but this solidified it for him; the world could become a better place, it already had. The Winchester, the hunters,  _ he,  _ had built a home and community that seemed as though it might just last. 


End file.
